Soulmate
by FredandGeorgefreak
Summary: At the World Conference, Peter asked Alfred a very important questions that's been on his mind, and Alfred tries to answer in the best way possible, bringing back old memories in the process. USUK with hints of SuFin and Hanatamao family. Dialogue from Dawson's Creek.


_**I don't own Hetalia or Dawson's Creek.**_

_**(Bold/Italicized parts are from Dawson's Creek.) **_

* * *

_**"What's a soulmate?"**_

Alfred never would have figured to hear those words come out of young Peter's mouth, especially not in a public place like the World Conference (which he wasn't meant to be at). The small micro-nation had crept up behind him, and from that point on, the question was out in the open.

Searching for the right words, Alfred put a finger to his chin, contemplating the question. **"**_**It's a...**_**"** he began slowly and not entirely surely. **"**_**Well, it's like a best friend but more.**_**"** When the younger cocked his head to the side in confusion, Alfred continued, **"**_**It's the one person in the world that knows you better than anyone else.**_**"**

Thoughts beginning to cloud into Alfred's head, he paused, reminiscing on a vivid memory from only a mere thirty-seven years prior.

_ It was the year of his country's bicentennial. Every city across the nation was rejoicing and celebrating. Two hundred years; it had been two hundred years since the revolution, since the United States had gained its independence from Great Britain._

_ The reminder of his former caretaker made Alfred's heart sink to his stomach, but he shook it off quickly. This was a day for him and for his people. He wasn't about to let that old man ruin it._

_ Stepping out of his house, about to join the parties he knew were taking place right outside, he stopped at the sight of a large, brown box sitting on his doorstep. That was funny; who could've left that there?_

_ But from the crisp, curvy writing of his name on the top. he realized that it was for him. Picking it up, he quickly went back inside, placing the box on the table. Opening the lid, he blinked at the sight of a plush, protective filling. What could possibly be so important and fragile that it had to be that protected? Not questioning it any further, he began to carefully remove the barrier of cotton._

_ What he found inside almost made him fall to the floor in shock. Shaky hands reached inside the package, picking up one of many wooden soldiers, ones very similar to the ones he had received as a child. But they weren't the same._

_ For one, they were all in blue, with proud, confident expressions on their stiff faces. They wore black hats with muskets in hand. But the most noticeable difference was the soldier that he held in his hand. It had large, blue eyes with a happy, optimistic smile. Blond hair stuck out from underneath his black cap, and that's when it all came together._

_ These were his soldiers. The one in his hand was him. These were the soldiers he had fought with two hundred years ago to this date. The Revolutionary War. Who could've possibly sent..._

_ Then, he saw it. Tucked in the back of the box was a dull, withering gun, an old one at that. Alfred held it in his hands, fingers running over the wood surface. When he turned it over, he couldn't help but let out a soft gasp._

_ Etched into the fading wood were the words, 'I couldn't shoot you. Now, I know why.'_

_ There was no signature. But Alfred didn't need one._

He was snapped back to reality by Peter's loud huffs and impatient whining. His deep, sea blue eyes told him to continue on.

_**"It's someone who makes you a better person," **_Alfred said, voice heavy. The fuzzy memory of a stuffy suit Arthur had forced him into when he was a teenager, rebellious and disrespectful, formed in his mind. Oh, how he had hated that suit. He always wore it though, when Arthur asked him to. It made him happy, seeing his colony so poised and proper. 'Just like an English gentleman,' he had always said.

He shook his head at the words he had uttered, taking them back. _**"Actually, they don't make you a better person, you do that yourself..." **_A light smile graced his lips. _**"...because they inspire you."**_

_This time, he was just a small colony, barely a few years old in human years. Arthur would be returning to England soon, and Alfred knew that. And it frightened him._

_ What if Arthur didn't want to come back? What if he found a better colony and made them into a big, strong country instead of him? No. He couldn't allow that to happen._

_ The entire day before Arthur's ship was set to sail back to Europe, Alfred tried his best to act how his elder wanted him to: no playing with his collar, keeping his elbows off the table, not getting his nice clothes dirty, and saying please and thank you._

_ He chewed with his mouth closed and even asked to be excused from the table. When he was given hesitant approval, he thanked Arthur, skipping off, venturing to his play room. He thought he was doing fairly well for such a messy nation like himself._

_ Arthur, on the other hand, was completely confused. Not once in his entire existence had Alfred acted as well behaved as he had been for the past few hours. What was going on?_

_ Without another thought, Arthur stood up, ignoring the empty dishes on the table, and made his way up to where he knew his colony would be._

_ Knocking on the door, he pushed it open, only to find the small blond holding his stuffed rabbit, cradling it in his little hands. In his eyes there were, what seemed to be, light, crystal tears. No words were said as Arthur strode over to the colony, gathering him up into his lap._

_ "Hey, now," Arthur cooed as Alfred clung to his shirt. "What's wrong, poppet? Are you ill?" One head shake. "Does anything hurt?" Two head shakes. "Did something break?" Three head shakes. That was the final straw. "Alfred, what's going on? I can't help if you don't tell me why you're so upset."_

_ Sniffling, Alfred leaned back, looking away from the Briton. "'m sorry I got your shirt wet," he apologized simply. Arthur blinked in surprise._

_ "Oh. That's quite alright, no harm done. All I really care about right now is you." He cupped the smaller's jaw. "Are you going to tell me what's happened?"_

_ "I was trying real hard," Alfred began, tears drying on his pale cheeks, "to be a good boy, just like you want." He motioned down to his pant leg that had a large, fresh hole in it. "But I keep messin' up. A-And...And you're gonna find another colony that w-won't mess up, and you'll make them b-big and strong and forget about m-me!"_

_ And there was the truth. It stung Arthur's heart, words like that coming from a boy so young. Stroking the golden locks that tickled his chin, Arthur said, "I would never leave you, love, no matter how many times you mess up. You're just a little boy; little boys are supposed to make mistakes."_

_ "Really?" a quiet whisper questioned._

_ "Really," Arthur responded with a smile._

_ "In that case," Alfred looked up at Arthur with wide, sparkling blue puppy eyes, "I'm hungry."_

_ The Englishman chuckled. "But you just ate!"_

_ "But I'm hungry again!"_

_ "Alright, alright," Arthur agreed, scooping the colony into his arms. "Let's get you some food, you silly, little piggy."_

_ Squealing, Alfred threw his arms around the other's neck, chatting away happily about the rabbits he had found in the field and how he'd given them all names. Flower, Autumn, and Iggy, he had said. "He looks like you!" he had protested on that last one._

_ And even though Arthur had promised it was okay to mess up, Alfred tried his absolute hardest to be the best colony he could be, so Arthur would be proud of him._

_**"A soulmate is someone you carry with you forever," **_Alfred breathed, memory still fresh in his mind. All the times he had screwed up, Arthur was there to make sure that everything was alright and to assure him that everyone makes mistakes, even colonies like him.

_**"It's the one person who knew you..." **_Alfred proceeded, looking back at Peter, who was intrigued by all of the new information he was learning. _**"...and accepted you and...believed in you before anyone else did. Or when no one else would."**_

All the times the older, more experienced countries would tell him off or tease him about making a mistake, Arthur was there, picking up any broken pieces.

He didn't care how Alfred acted, not after he had become independent. And sure, he would make fun of his former colony from time to time as well; but if Alfred ever got to the point of a break down, Arthur was there, stopping the rest of the nations before it got worse. He was the only one who didn't ask him to change.

Even after their huge war, Arthur was there to support him, to comfort him, to urge him on when he didn't have the strength. Only Arthur knew how to do that. Only Arthur _offered_ to do any of that.

_**"And no matter what happens," **_the American said, taking a long, deep breath, _**"we'll always love them."**_

_The Revolution. Flashbacks darted through his mind. The tears, the screams, the bullets, the wounds. Everything was too much. Attempting to become free didn't matter in those moments when his men would fall to the ground, death seeping through their bodies._

_ But Alfred couldn't stop. His people depended on him; it was the entire reason there was a war in the first place, and he didn't intend to give up._

_ Seeing those big, green eyes, so hurt, so betrayed nearly broke Alfred's heart. Never had he wanted to hurt Arthur, that was the last thing he wanted to do. But he wanted his freedom and he wouldn't give it to him. So, he had to resort to things like this._

_ He remembered Arthur in tears, curled up on the ground as his own troops celebrated. They had fought hard, and they had won. What else could they have asked for?_

_ However, Alfred fell onto the muddy surface, hands hovering over his former guardian's back. What was he supposed to do, tell him everything was going to be alright? In Arthur's case, it wouldn't be. So, he settled for just sitting there, rain coating his already soaked form, until his general told him it was time to head back to spread the good news._

_ With one last glance back at the sobbing, drenched Britt, Alfred led his men out of Yorktown. They would all return to their families, happy and grateful. All except for him._

_**"Nothing can ever change that," **_Alfred finished in a whisper, a single tear rolling down his cheek. All of the recollection jumbled through his mind, combining to form a very forceful depression that settled over him.

Peter took a step closer to him, confused as to why the bigger nation was so upset over a wonderful topic such as the one they were discussing. He was about to question him until a shout interrupted him.

"Peter!" Tino Väiämöinen called, running to approach his son. "What have I said about running away from me like that? You could've gotten lost!"

"But I wasn't lost, Mama!" Peter protested, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Mr. Alfred was telling me what a soulmate was!"

Smirking, Tino picked up his son, resting him on his hip. "Was he now? And how did that go?"

He looked to Alfred for an answer, and the American perked up. "Awesome, as usual! You know I give the best advice ever!"

The Finn rolled his eyes, laughing. "Of course."

"Mama, Mama!" Peter squirmed in his arms to look up at his "mother". He smiled confidently before asking, "Are you and Papa soulmates?"

A blush spread across Tino's cheeks as he muttered something about having to get back to the other Nordics. A large hand rested on his shoulder, startling the petit blond.

"'Course we are," a gruff voice said. It only made him blush more. The Swede behind Finland ruffled the representative of Sealand's hair. "Now, c'mon, Peter, listen to yer mother."

"I'm not his-!" But he was cut off as Berwald pulled him off in the opposite direction.

Chuckling, Alfred shook his head. He was glad they had such a happy, healthy relationship, unlike his own with a certain blond standing in the corner of the room, fighting with an overly excited Francis.

Every time he would attempt to approach Arthur, he would get jittery, and his palms would get clamming. His heart rate would increase, and he would stumble over his words. But after his talk with Peter, he knew what he had to do.

Back straight, head held high, he marched up to the British man, tapping him on the shoulder. A straight, blank expression on his face, Arthur turned around, startled to see Alfred standing there. Before he could say anything, he was cut off by a few simple words:

"Do you know what a soulmate is?"

Arthur smiled. He believed he liked where this conversation was headed.

* * *

**_A/N: USUK is one of my biggest OTPs in this show, along with SuFin, so this was fun to write ^^_**

**_Review?_**


End file.
